Finding Faith
by Ritaann
Summary: Elizabeth finds faith when it is most needed...
1. Default Chapter

***Finding Faith***  
  
Author: Ritaann  
Title: Finding hope  
Summary: After Mark's death, Elizabeth finds a conclusion in a place she never expected to.  
Spoilers: well, when I started this- yes. Now? No.  
Rating: PG  
Archive: Sure! just e-mail me first, ok? At er_aussie@hotmail.com.  
Disclaimer: Elizabeth, Ella and the memory of Mark Greene do not belong to me however much I wish that they do. The settings don't belong to me, describing of the church has nothing to do with the episode 'April Showers'. This storyline is purely speculation on what I think might go on after the camera's have rolled and please remember that if you sue me- I will not be able to pay you.  
Keywords: Ella, Elizabeth, tears.  
  
PS. I WOULD NEVER HAVE THOUGHT THAT I COULD WRITE A DEATH STORY ABOUT MARK GREENE AND ELIZABETH CORDAY!!!! AHHHHH!!!!!  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
I stared up at the many stairs which lead into the church where Mark and I had been married just four years ago. They were worn and seemed as though thousands of pairs of feet had trampled on the stone on their way to various masses. Holding my daughter closer to me, I began to ascend the stairs. Ella had no knowledge of where she was, being fast asleep and wrapped in a knit blanket that she had carried around everywhere since the day she could walk.   
  
Sigh. I had made it to the top of the stairs. Ella had not woken up - yet. It was barely two days ago since I had told her that she would never see her Daddy again, that he could never read her a bed time story before she went to sleep.   
  
Naturally, her first response was, "Why mummy, why?" and to that I couldn't come up a logical response. Me a down-to-earth person who believed there was a reason to everything, a logical explanation, for once, found something I couldn not explain.   
  
"Because he's in heaven, sweetie."   
  
"Where?" she asked, her dark brown eyes in a pool of confusion, her face a picture of innocence.   
  
"Heaven. That's where people go when they die." and these words coming from me, a person who wasn't religious and hardly ever went to church. How ironic.  
  
"Is my Daddy dead?" Ella asked, her big, brown beautiful eyes looked up at me sadly.  
  
"Yes honey, he is."  
  
That was how the conversation had ended. I had now entered the church and noticed that it didn't look much different from that afternoon in April. Looking up at a carving which showed Jesus Christ hung on the cross between two thieves, I sat down slowly on a pew in the back corner, cradling Ella in my arms as she slept. She looked so peaceful, too young to understand much more than, "Daddy's not going to be around anymore." and; "He's gone to a beautiful place up in the sky with the angels."   
  
Turning my head, I saw another statue. This one much, much larger and had many vases filled with flowers surrounding it. It was of Mary, holding her son in her arms. His face pale with death, hands, feet and side pierced; bloody water pouring out. But what struck me most was his mother. Tears were welling up behind her eyes, one already fallen. I hadn't been able to do that. Cry, that is. I had no words to describe my feelings. When Rachel had arrived, she wept as soon as she saw me. Even then, I couldn't squeeze out a drop. It wasn't until I glanced around the church, my eyes wondering towards the altar with the statue still pictured deeply in my mind, that the first tear came...  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
I was just planning to put out all the candles in the main part of the church when I noticed a poor soul sitting quietly at the back pew. If it wasn't for how quietly she sat, I wouldn't have cared. People come into the church at all times and this night would be no different. However, she was shaking. Even with the thick coat she had on and the blanket in her lap, she was shivering. Or, I thought to myself, she was crying.  
  
I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around and saw Father Peter, the same priest that had married Mark and I standing a few feet away. Immediately, I held Ella closer and stood up as fast as I could.  
  
"I'm sorry, I was just on my way," I said, trying to wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my coat. Ella had woken up and was rubbing her eyes wearily.   
  
"No, it's okay," he said kindly. "Would you join me for a cup of tea or coffee?"   
I nodded and followed the Father out of the church and into his residence in silence, gently rocking Ella back to sleep.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"I think we've met before," he said gently. His voice seemed almost too soft for the wide broad shoulders and the aging face, the wrinkles more prominent since the last time she had seen him.   
  
The priest sat down on his comfy leather desk chair and handed me a warm cup of tea, the scent of the leaves sweeping me into a sense of calm and stability that I hadn't felt for months.   
  
"Yes, you married my husband and I about four years ago," I answered. My throat felt scratchy and tired from sobs I had tried unsuccessfully to contain. I sipped at the tea, feeling it wash down my throat, and calming me down almost instantly.   
  
Father Peter thought for a minute before continuing with a smile. "Ah, yes! You were the doctor couple. How could I have forgotten?"   
  
I bowed my head at the joyous tones that emitted from the man's now happy face.   
  
"And how is Dr Greene doing? Shame he isn't here."   
  
'You don't know how close to the truth you are.' I cleared my throat of phlegm and continued with the news that I knew I must deliver. "He passed away. Yesterday morning, actually."   
  
The Father almost immediately took on a serious expression, worry lines creased his already worn forehead. He thought for a minute or two and I relished in the silence, waiting to see what condolences he would offer. They were all the same. Sorry this and sorry that. I couldn't believe how heartless those words sounded, although I had said them myself a few thousand times to a deceased patients family or friends. Yet when I had thought about it, properly, I realized that there really wasn't anything that anyone could say. The pain would always be there. The loss and hardship of times ahead with out the one you loved.   
  
Everytime someone said something, anything at all, it would remind me of Mark. A joke, a kind word, condolences for my loss, all of it just reminded me that I had just lived another second, minute or hour without him being on this planet with me. Each memory was like a blow to the heart. Sometimes I thought people were doing it to spite me, to see if they could torture me further.   
  
"I certainly remember him. I hope the years you've had with him were happy times and that one day, you shall meet him again."   
  
I looked up sharply. So far, in the thirty-five or so hours since Mark had left me, not one person had not offered their apologies. Not one.   
  
"I, I hadn't expected you to say that."   
  
"What did you expect me to say?" he asked with a soft smile, his lips barely turned up at the corners, the silvery gray eye brows raised.  
  
"I don't know, it's just, everyone seems to be saying sorry."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"His death, my loss... I really don't know. When I think about it, they have nothing to be sorry for."  
  
"True," said the wise priest, choosing his next words carefully. "By the amount of people attending the wedding as I recall, you had quiet a large number of friends attending, and also a large number not being able to attend."   
  
Elizabeth nodded. "They've lost something too and I've realized that."  
  
"How are you dealing with it?" asked Father Peter, deciding that a change of topic was needed.   
  
"Realistically? I don't know. Everything still reminds me of him, I can't seem to forget and yet I don't want to. I'm afraid that I'll lose whatever memories that I do have but some are too painful to revisit. I wonder what I'm going to do with my life now that he's not here." I whispered, looking down at Ella who had once more fallen asleep, too tired from what the day had held.  
  
"You'll survive," Father Peter said knowingly. "I see you have much faith, yet don't know it."   
  
"I don't think I've every really had faith in anything. Especially in myself."  
  
"Oh, you do. Everyone has at least that tiny drop of it in their heart somewhere. All they have to do is find it, then it's all theirs. Depending on how they use it, it will bring them what is most wanted."   
  
"This doesn't sound easy," I said, trying my best to soak in the words of wisdom I was receiving.  
  
"It isn't easy but it's there. Trust in God, Elizabeth."  
  
As though that had been my final dismissal, that I had no reason to be there any longer I stood up, carefully making sure that Ella was still snuggled in my arms. My arms ached with the weight of carring a three year old child, but at this point in time, I didn't see how I could let her go.  
  
With a nod and a quiet thank you, I left the warm, homey room and watched as Father Peter closed the door behind me, a slightly pensive smile on his face.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
  



	2. Stone Cold

**** Stone Cold ****  
  
Follows 'Finding Faith'   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Nights were always the hardest. The dark seemed to surround me, suffocating all within its weary depths of nothingness. Everything seemed bleak at night, shadows leaping out from nowhere. Grey predators lumme ahead, watching your every move, hiding behind only god knows what, waiting for the right moment when instinct will take over and rule my life. Our lives.  
  
Night was left for wondering. Pondering over things that were too shameful, too painful to discuss when the cheerful sun was out. Its warm rays reaching into the cracks and crevices, giving warmth and comfort, the heat driving away the need to look back on things past. Old memories that cut deep into my soul rarely showed their faces when Mr. Sun was here and some ways it was a mixed blessing.   
  
I remember a time when he was here, with me. There to face all the demons of night together.   
  
Shadows played against the walls, their feathery light touch bounding over the walls in graceful formations. Outlines danced wildly, feverishly as tantalizing games were enjoyed throughout the night. Back then, night had been a wonderful time. Special. Something to treasure and keep close in my heart forever.   
  
But he had left. Not of will, Mark had no choice in the matter.   
  
Death had been the perpetrator.   
  
I missed him. I wanted Mark to be here, next to me, his warm body against mine. Comforting my fears and keeping me company during the darkest of hours.  
  
For now I was just going to have to make do with what I got.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
I saw him. The illusion I knew it to be was so real, so alive that doubt began to rise, bubbling quietly, brewing up arguments, questioning my paranoia. His beautiful face was over mine, a nights worth of stubble embedded into the soft skin of his chin. Hands busy, wildly searching my body for what, I do not know. Pleasure ruled his eyes, the untamed ecstasy that lived there dancing with the beat of his heart.   
  
My blood ran warm, rushing through my veins with a new taste for something that I had missed over the past few weeks. Our breathing was ragged, hot and heavy as we sought in the much needed breaths of oxygen that kept us moving. I was losing myself within it. Within him. Mark was here! He had come back for me. For Ella.   
  
Happiness had come, it hadn't left us.   
  
I had everything, my baby girl, my soul mate…   
  
  
And with an icy cold gust of wind it was all gone.   
  
Stolen.   
  
Betrayal ran deep in my veins, chilling me to the very core of my being. I sat up as quickly as I could and looked about me, madly searching the shadows for what I had lost, for what I once had. Perhaps it was there? Behind that corner, under that shape- what about that patch of darkness?   
  
It was just a dream. I told myself, whispered that in certain tones, it was fake, phoney, an illusion. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was now gone.  
  
I was alone once more.   
  
I looked down at the shirt I had been wearing. It was soaked with sweat, darker splotches among lighter shades of grey. It had once been Mark's shirt. No, no it was still his. Mark just wasn't going to be using it for a while so I thought I would just borrow it. Just this once… it really did smell wonderful…  
  
I had to stop doing that. I know he's dead. He isn't here. Denial is not the answer all my problems. I can solve it out on my own. I can do it by myself. Don't need no shrink.   
  
It would be okay, I would be okay.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
I lay back against the pillows that now lay flattened after this night's activity. Breathe in, breathe out. Reach for another shirt I kept handy on the night stand. Discard the old shirt and slip on the clean one.   
  
This one had been washed, the light floral sent floated through my senses.   
  
He was still here, I reminded myself. I will not forget him if I wash his shirts.   
  
I knew it was fruitless. I still had a bad of clothes that had been left unwashed, each item reeking of his scent. One day I will wash them. One day when the pain wasn't too hard to bear.   
  
"Mummy…?"  
  
Ella's small head of red curls peaked around the door, the small frog that her father had bought for her when I was eight months pregnant in her left hand, grasping at the slightly brownish fur.   
  
"What is it sweetie?" I asked, propping myself up on one elbow.   
  
The door creped forward an inch or too and Ella stood at the doorway, one thumb also lodged firmly into her mouth. He took a few tiny steps forward, not really want to talk about what had awakened her this night.   
  
"Was it a nightmare?"   
  
A simple nod was her answer.   
  
I patted the softly and opened the covers as an invitation. A small smile graced her face as she climbed in between the sheets and I hugged her close to me, breathing in another one of my favourite scents.   
  
"I will be okay Mummy, everything will turn out okay. They always do, right?"   
  
"Right sugar plum," I soothed using the name Mark had fashioned for her as soon as she had been born, "Everything will be just fine."   
  
And at that moment, I really felt as thought everything was going to work out just as Ella had said. She would be my rock, my hope.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Don't forget to tell me what you thought!! Remember- I write and breath feed back- and I haven't gotten any in ages (that's because I haven't been writing much… well… you get the point! I just want a tiny letter…) er_aussie@hotmail.com 


	3. Home

*****Home*****  
  
Title: Home  
Author: Ritaann  
Characters: Elizabeth, Ella and Rachel (with a splash of Mark)  
Rating: PG  
Summary: through all the tough times there will be that one moment, that one time where you stop to think of what you've got in life and what you can make of it…  
Disclaimer: all characters used do not belong to me and are the property of Michael C. and his cronies. I do not make any money from any part of this fic and it is written purely for entertainment purposes.   
Feedback: please feeeedddd meee at: er_aussie@hotmail.com   
Authors note: well what do you know? After a dry spell there I *still* have a bit of life in me. Weather or not its worth saving is for you to decide. Come on! I need to know what you people want me to write! Challenges are *very* welcome as long as they are not slash or "dirty" or anything like that…  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Soft music swayed from the speakers of the stereo that Mark had insisted we get as soon as we move into this house. At first, I hadn't seen the need of a new one. Mine was just as good as his though with his quietly enduring ways (and then sometimes not so quiet) he had managed to bring me round to selling mine and his. This new stereo had better speakers. The music could have spread all over the house, top and bottom floors at the touch of a button, warming the solemn corners with varying tunes from classical Bach to Elvis reminding us not to break his heart.   
  
This particular C.D had belonged to Rachel, though from looking at her extensive collection would not have though she would have something that was as calm and soothing as this particular song.   
  
Somewhere Over the Rainbow.   
  
Sometimes I would wish that I could be somewhere else, anywhere but here. Most of the time I dreamed of a place where suffering, pain and the endless aching that I felt after returning from Hawaii would end. When I think of Mark's death, many things come to mind. I am happy that his suffering has ended, that the pain has been squelched by the angel of death, though it saddens me to think of him up there, on a star perhaps mingling with the clouds watching over Ella and the world.   
  
Then I get angry, stark mad, raving as a lunatic would. Seething at the mouth I would yell in my head what about me? Do I to not deserve happiness?! Can't Mark stay here, free of ill health for the sake of my psychological well being?   
  
Not that I've contemplated death recently. I remember as a teenager at first thinking that if my parents had separated what a happier house it would be and also how much happier my parents would have been. When the divorce papers never came while I was home from boarding school I had felt a strange sense of relief. After all that wishing and wanting I hadn't gotten what I wanted, yet I didn't care.   
  
And that scared me,  
  
but as they say, life goes on and at school I soon got lost in the tangle of knowing just how to make trouble without getting into any while still getting good grades. When I had walked into the door I knew.   
  
Knew that it had happened, that the marriage was all over. The house was strangely empty, half its possessions gone and as I looked all around me I could see that there had been new things added here and there, perhaps just to compensate for things that had been removed. Well, whatever my parents were trying to achieve it wasn't working and just served to make the place look alienated, as though I had just walked into the home of a stranger. My room however was the same and nothing had been touched. With a sigh I managed to convince myself that they were just redecorating and had decided to buy all the new things first, and then change what was on the walls. I knew this could not be the case seeing as everything that was new did fit in with the interior we had now but I brushed it off, got ready for dinner and went downstairs to wait for my parents to arrive.   
  
Only Mother came home that night and that was the way it was for during those three long weeks.   
  
"Mummy?"   
  
I looked up, shaken out of my fantasies by a tiny child who could be no older than the age of four. At first I was struck but the deepening brown of her eyes, the slightest tinge of green floating round the edges. She seemed to have shot up since last night, grown an extra centimetre. Her hair was cursed, think red ringlets still in its morning stage before the rigorous brushing that had to be done straight after breakfast or otherwise wouldn't get done at all.  
  
Ella had resorted to the tugging of my robe, a present from Mark a few winters back when he was noted as being cancerous free. Things during that time had been going well. Oh, was I so sadly mistaken.   
  
"Up already?" Ella nodded and I turned towards the window behind me, spotting the rising sun over the rooftops of houses that preceded ours. Looking down I saw that my mug of coffee was no longer hot and was room temperature. Dumping its contents into the sink I turned back to Ella.   
  
"What do you want for breakfast sweetie?"   
  
Ella's big brown eyes stared back at me as she thought for a moment, head cocked in concentration.   
  
"Pancakes!" she exclaimed. Funny, Mark had always liked pancakes though he seldom ate them.   
  
"Well then that's what we shall have," I confirmed while looking around in the cupboards for the various things needed. Ella had begun to look through the pages of a picture book that had gotten left on the table last night.  
  
"Were you thinking about Daddy?"  
  
It was so unexpected that I would be asked such a question that I almost dropped the frying pan onto the floor. I closed my eyes for a second, recollecting my thoughts as Marks face flashed in my mind, him as he handed Ella to me to feed at the hospital, his face filled with joy and yet pensive at the life we now had ahead of us.   
  
"Yes." I answered as confidently as I could, "I was."  
  
"Can I join you?"   
  
Rachel's voice of uncertainty skidded over the cool air of the kitchen and for a moment I smiled, turning back to measuring the correct amounts of flour into the plastic bowl.   
  
"You can if you get the milk," I replied and I could feel Rachel's mood lift as she knew she had been accepted. That whatever she had done in the past, it had been forgotten. Well, for the time being anyway. These holidays had been tough, however not more so than that last and things were getting easier. Maybe I can convince her to stay a little longer this time. Maybe.   
  
Things would be strange for a while, but I knew we could get through it.   
  
I was no longer alone.   
  
I had come home.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Basically, folks- this is the end :( 


End file.
